Page 54 of Red Rooster

“Collie,” David said.

Trina nearly choked on her sip of tea.

Colette pursed her lips. “I want to know why,” she insisted.

“I didn’t want to put civilians at risk.” When Colette motioned toward David and opened her mouth to protest, Nikita said, “I know, I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come here. But we had nowhere else to turn. You have wards, Colette, strong ones. This is the safest place in the city right now and I just need to beg hospitality from you until I can take care of these fucking Institute people.”

“Untilyoucan take care of?” Trina asked.

“Yes,” he said, not looking at her. Dismissing her.

“Hold up,” she said, before he could continue. “Time out, alright? Are you saying you want all of us to hole up here while you go ‘take care of’ things?”

He turned to her then, expression schooled to careful blankness. “Yes.”

“Well that’s not happening.”

“Trina–”

“I havework. This ismycase, and–”

“A case is not worth your life!” he snapped, his façade crumbling. “I don’t want civilian casualties, but I especially don’t wantyours! Do you understand that?”

Colette cleared her throat.

Trina glanced away, breath coming short and quick. She couldn’t decide if she was furious, or terrified. Maybe both.

“I can provide shelter,” Colette said. “For a short time. But you all need to get out of the city.”

“What, just run away?” Lanny asked. “Like a buncha shitheads?”

Colette’s expression might have been called amusement. “In my lifetime, I’ve learned sometimes running is the safest option.”

“What if we leave and the Institute comes after you?” Jamie asked.

“They won’t,” she said. Her gaze shifted to Nikita, growing hard. “Not unless you’ve led them here.”

“I…” Trina started, and it hit her, suddenly, that she was completely exhausted. She wanted to cry. Instead, she said, “If it’s alright with you, and we really can stay, I’d love to catch a few hours’ sleep.”

“Of course.”

~*~

They came for her in her dreams.

A snowy vista stretched before her, edged with pine groves and the jagged shapes of mountain ranges. The air smelled of her Russia dreams, like frost and blood. But this time, the wolves were not the poor fallen beasts of before, when she’d seen Sasha’s dead pack. Two wolves faced her now, jaws bloody, dripping long trails of pink saliva onto the snow. They were both dark gray, their coats dull, eyes glassy. They lowered their heads and growled at her.

She closed her eyes. “It’s a dream,” she said. “Just a dream.”

But when she opened her eyes, the wolves were still there, still growling. And then they lunged.

She ran. Floundering through the snow, slipping, windmilling her arms for balance. She could heard their ragged breathing behind her and she knew that she’d never get away.

Her toes clipped something hard, a rock or log buried beneath the snow, and she tumbled forward, falling, falling… She twisted at the last second, landed on her back, lifted her hands to shield her face. They would kill her now, sink their fangs in her flesh and tear her to ribbons like they had Lanny’s neighbors.

She took one last trembling breath and braced for the attack.

It didn’t come.